Affinity
by Alex Voy
Summary: Seven is disturbed by the repercussions of 'Hunters'


Affinity by Alex Voy Rating: G Disclaimer: Paramount owns the copyright and all the characters. I make no profit, just enjoy writing about them.  
  
Acknowledgements: Set shortly after 'Hunters', season 4. Seven is disturbed by the repercussions of the events of 'Hunters'. It began as a Janeway vignette, but the result is as much about Seven and Torres as it is about Janeway. Contains spoilers for 'Hunters'.  
  
With my sincere thanks again to my ever-patient beta reader.  
  
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"Affinity"  
  
Seven of Nine, Personal Log Stardate 51523.2  
  
My ability to regenerate is impaired. On three occasions since Lieutenant Commander Tuvok and I returned from the Hirogen ship, I have remained fully aware during some of the hours allotted for regeneration. Being held as the prey of a race of hunters was an unpleasant experience for us both, but we have suffered no permanent damage.  
  
When Captain Janeway first suggested that I should record an account of my assimilation into Voyager's crew, I complied even though I considered such a record unnecessary. She advised me that I might find it useful to compare my future experiences with my progress in the past. But because I possess the Borg ability of total recall, I have, until now, perceived no advantage in committing my thoughts to Voyager's data banks.  
  
However, the events of the past few days have caused me to reconsider my conclusion. The Doctor has been unable to diagnose a physical cause of my failure to regenerate, and when I reported my malfunction to Captain Janeway, her response was both unhelpful and disturbing.  
  
"It's called 'insomnia', Seven. Welcome to the club." Captain Janeway sat behind the desk in her ready room and drank dark liquid from a cup.  
  
"Insomnia is a physical manifestation of human inability to control thought processes," I replied. "I am Borg. I do not sleep. I have complete control over all higher brain functions."  
  
"Apparently not, or you wouldn't be here now, telling me this." She leaned back in her chair, the cup cradled in her hands. Her manner was unusually distant and I sensed she was distracted.  
  
I studied her face, noting the slight physical changes in her appearance since we had encountered the Hirogen communications network. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, and the muscles of her face appeared taut over the sharpened angles of her skeletal structure. She looked up and observed my scrutiny.  
  
"Seven, you have to understand that you no longer possess so-called 'Borg perfection'. You are a lot more human now, and you have to learn to accept the inconvenience and inefficiencies that go with your humanity."  
  
I considered the implications of her words with distaste  
  
"In the collective, there was harmony between drones," I replied. "Here on Voyager, there is discord and unhappiness amongst the crew since the messages were received from Earth through the Hirogen communication system. This disharmony is unsettling to me." For a moment, I observed another physical change in the Captain's appearance: an unfamiliar refraction of light in her eyes before she bowed her head slightly.  
  
"It's unsettling for us all." Her voice was pitched low, the tone strained. "Not everyone had good news from home. Many people didn't get a letter at all. A lot has changed in the Federation. Some terrible things have happened since we left".  
  
During the months since my arrival on board Voyager, I have learned much by observing Captain Janeway. Unlike most Humans in the crew, she has achieved considerable command of her facial expressions. However, she is unable to control the physiological changes in her eyes. I do not know if she is aware that my ocular implant allows me to detect these physical variations, but I believe she avoids direct eye contact when she wishes to conceal her thoughts.  
  
I responded to what I saw. "You did not receive good news from Earth. I'm sorry."  
  
She looked up. I observed a confusion of anger and something I was unable to define, but which I found disturbing.  
  
"My letter is not your concern, Seven."  
  
"I disagree. The disharmony amongst the crew is exacerbated by the unhappiness that you, their leader, is experiencing. This ship cannot function efficiently in the present circumstances, and as a consequence, I find myself unable to regenerate successfully. Therefore your letter is of concern to me and to everyone else on board Voyager."  
  
"What do you want me to do? Read it out over the comm system?" She stood up and faced me across the desk, then suddenly turned away and folded her arms.  
  
I waited through the long silence for her to speak again. At last, she turned, and I was surprised to see that she was laughing. My ocular implant detected another momentary refraction of light beneath her right eye, but there was no hint of the recent anger.  
  
"You're right, of course, Seven. As Captain, I should be setting an example, not wallowing in self-pity. After all, what's a 'Dear John' letter compared with the news the ex-Maquis crew have learnt from home?"  
  
"I don't understand. What is a 'Dear John' letter?"  
  
"It's a concept the Borg could never perceive. Just be thankful you don't know."  
  
Later in the evening I was sitting alone at a table in the mess hall, eating a nutritionally balanced meal Neelix had replicated for me. Except for Ensign Kim, I believe the crew still feels discomfort in the company of a former drone.  
  
A few, however, are willing to make an effort, including Lieutenant Torres. Despite our many differences of opinion and my certain knowledge that she dislikes me, she persists in attempting to engage in social discourse. I believe she does this for Captain Janeway's sake rather than for mine.  
  
This evening, Lieutenant Torres decided to be sociable and stood beside my table holding a tray of food.  
  
"Mind if I join you?"  
  
I looked around at the empty unoccupied tables nearby. I nodded.  
  
She glared at me and sat down in the chair opposite. "What's that?" She indicated my food tray.  
  
"It's a nutritionally balanced amalgam of protein, carbohydrate, and vitamins."  
  
She compared it with her own meal and laughed. "It looks and smells disgusting, but I think it may be an improvement on this latest recipe for leola root goulash." She put a forkful into her mouth and grimaced, but made no further comment.  
  
I continued to ingest my food in silence.  
  
"Mind if I ask you something personal?" Lieutenant Torres interrupted my thoughts about my recent interview with Captain Janeway.  
  
"I have no preference about the nature of your enquiry."  
  
"Seven, you could just say 'go ahead'. Even 'yes' or 'no' might come a little easier."  
  
"What is it you wish to know?"  
  
She looked down at her food, and I believe I detected embarrassment in her manner.  
  
"How did you feel when your Borg cube was destroyed after you beamed over to Voyager?"  
  
"It was necessary for the cube to be sacrificed. I had no feelings about its destruction."  
  
"You felt nothing? When all the people you had lived and worked with for practically your whole life were killed, you felt no sense of loss?"  
  
"We were Borg. It was necessary."  
  
"I never thought I'd say this, but right now, I envy you. I wish I could feel nothing." She pushed away her tray of mostly uneaten food.  
  
"You are comparing the loss of my cube with the destruction of the Maquis by the Cardassians?"  
  
"Seems I made a mistake." She began to stand up.  
  
"Yes, you did." I recognised an unfamiliar feeling of empathy. "Although I felt nothing about the destruction of my cube, there was ...considerable mental trauma when Captain Janeway severed my link with the Collective. I felt pain and anger: such isolation that I believed I could not survive. When Captain Janeway told me it would get better with time, I did not believe her. I hated her for what she had done to me."  
  
Lieutenant Torres sat down again. "Right now, I hate the Cardassians, the Federation, this uniform." She plucked distastefully at the fabric on her chest.  
  
"Do you hate Captain Janeway? Blame her for what has happened to the Maquis in the Alpha Quadrant?"  
  
"No, of course not." Her fingers were tearing a piece of bread into small pieces and crumbling them onto her tray. "At first, I used to blame her for stranding us out here in the Delta Quadrant, but I got over that a long time ago. And I'm not conceited enough to believe I could have made a difference to what happened to the Maquis if I'd stayed in the Alpha Quadrant. I should probably thank her for saving me from the Cardassians."  
  
At that moment, Captain Janeway entered the mess hall with Commander Chakotay. He was talking quietly to her as they selected their food and chose a corner table away from other diners.  
  
Lieutenant Torres watched them sit down. "She looks like hell. I guess her news wasn't a lot better than mine."  
  
I looked across at the Captain. "What is a 'Dear John' letter?" I had intended to search the computer database for reference to the phrase, but have learned that the crew can sometimes be an equally efficient source of information. Although I had been reluctant to press Captain Janeway further, I now felt an unaccustomed desire to share my knowledge with Lieutenant Torres  
  
"Kahless! So that's it. Talk about kicking a captain when she's down. After more than four years, she finally makes contact with home, then has the link irreparably severed after just one message. And what was that message? A 'Dear John' letter." Lieutenant Torres pushed her tray violently across the table.  
  
"Explain."  
  
"Don't you get it, Seven? She's been dumped. Thrown over. Jilted by that pig she was supposed to marry."  
  
I looked across the room again. Commander Chakotay was no longer speaking. He was eating in silence while Captain Janeway moved leola root around on her tray with a fork. I remembered my own isolation and sense of loss when my neural link to the Collective was disengaged.  
  
Captain Janeway had just been severed from her own past, but I felt no satisfaction in observing her time of adjustment. When I joined Voyager, she had been forced by circumstances to balance my unhappiness against the lives of her whole crew. The man who wrote that letter had chosen to alter the balance in his own favour at her expense.  
  
Captain Janeway will adapt.  
  
The quality of my life has improved as I rediscover my humanity. I believe that Captain Janeway will come to understand that she too is now free to seek her own future. The process will no doubt be difficult, but she is a strong individual. She will endure.  
  
END 


End file.
